The Return
by Kora
Summary: sequel to "Becoming Angel." The third and final part of the "Some Kind of Bond That Cannot Be Broken" trilogy. Mush and Blink notice Brooklyn newsies tailing Becca. Why? And who is HIM anyway? Read and find out.


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The Return

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Disclaimer: None of the characters in this story are mine, except for Jack's sister, Angel/Becca, Rhys, Cobs, and Mr. Neville. All the other characters belong to Disney. This story is just for fun, not meant to steal Disney's characters or anything; no copyright infringement intended.

Summary: Mush and Blink notice Brooklyn newsies tailing Becca. Why? And who is HIM anyway? Read and find out.

By: Kora

All he saw were flashes of that menacing figure standing over him, sneering. The others were crouching over in fear, or pain. A frightened child shrieked. Things became darker and darker, '_I gotta get outta here, ise gots ta get outta here!'_

"Yo-hoo, Jacky-boy?"

"Huh, what?" Jack's mind focused back to the present. He was sitting at a table at Tibby's with Davey, Les, and Racetrack. Race was waving a hand in front of Jack's face.

"Ya were back out in la-la land."

"Are you sure you're okay, Jack?"

"Aw, he's fine. Jus' stayed up too late last night, tryin' ta beat me at pokah. Like t'at'll evah happen." Right then, Spot pulled open the door to the restaurant and walked in. "Heya Brooklyn! Back here in Manhattan again, I see. Whatsa mattah, yoah subjects gettin' tired a' puttin' up wit' yoah ego, so youse gotta hide out heah?" Spot smirked back,

"Very funny, Race. I'm still t'e leadah a' Brooklyn, and t'at's why I'm heah, ta tawk ta Jack. Borin' leadah stuff."

"Guys from the Bronx whining about territory again?" questioned Davey.

"Somet'in like t'at."

"Don't bothah askin'," Race told Davey. "Ise seen t'em like t'is befoah. I's really nothin', but t'ose two likes ta feel all impoitent so t'ey pratend t'at somet'in really big is goin' on." The little bell on the door rang, heralding the arrival of a swarm of newsies. Kid Blink, Mush, Boots, Skittery, Snoddy, Dutchy, Itey, Snitch, Pie Eater, Bumlets, Specs, and Snipeshooter all poured into Tibby's and assumed spots at their usual tables. Blink sat down next to Davey and Les.

"Hey Jack. Wheah's oah sistah?"

"Oah sistah?"

"I mean, she's technically yoah sistah, but she's oah lit'le sistah now too, right?"

Jack smiled at his close friend. Blink had no idea how much that meant to him, especially right now. "A' coase, Blink. And I'm not shoah wheah she is. She said t'at t'ere was somet'in she wanted ta do. Took hoir guitar wit' hoir t'is moinin', and left." All of a sudden, something that Jack was sure was some kind of whirlwind stormed into Tibby's.

"Guess what, guess what, guess what?!"

"Becky? Sheez, couldya toin t'e enagy level down a notch oah two t'ere?"

"But Jaaa-aack, you'll never believe what just happened!"

"Well, what?"

"I got a job!" Becca beamed. 

"That's great!" Davey exclaimed. The other newsies crowded around, congratulating her. Jack, however, was wary. What type of job was this? Where was it? How easily would HE be able to get to her while she was at this job? Jack glanced to Spot, who sent an assuring glance back. Jack eased up a bit. 

"So what, exactly, are ya gonna be doin'?" he asked. Becca's eyes sparkled in excitement. 

"As I was wandering around this morning, I found the neatest little place! They call it a café, and they sell coffee and sandwiches and other little stuff there! Then I had this idea, wouldn't it be great if someone played music while the people were there eating? The owner, Mr. Neville, was intrigued by my idea, so he let me play for him, and he gave me a job!"

"What didya play?" Skittery queried. 

"'Unforgetful You'. Mr. Neville loved it. It's got a good beat."

"Willya--"

"Sure, but first I'll have to teach a few of you to keep the beat, through clapping, to back me up, or it just won't sound right." Becca took a few minutes to instruct all volunteers to help back her up as she was playing, then she arranged her guitar on her knee, and began.

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I never minded calling You a king

If that meant that I could count on You

to give me everything

I never thought to ask You

I always thought You knew

it was never my intention to question You

You never minded calling me a child

Well, I guess that's how I acted all the while

But You live through every tantrum

You see through every lie

Though they seem to be more common

I just wanted to know why oh why

(chorus)

Unforgetful You, unforgetful

Unforgetful You, so 

unforgetful

You never minded giving us the stars

And then showing us how blind and unaware 

of You we are

You painted me a picture and

showed me how to see

Though I just won't behold it 

Unless it pertains to me

(repeat chorus)

(bridge)

(repeat chorus)

So unforgetful You

This song ©1999 Bridge Building Music/Pogostick Music/BMI. Written by Dan Haseltine, Matt Odmark, Stephen Mason, and Charlie Lowell. Performed by, (them), Jars of Clay (yey!). I love this song, and I needed a song with a guitar in it, so this fits so perfectly. Absolutely no copyright infringement intended, please, please, don't be mad that I used this song!

When Becca finished there was applause, which halted abruptly upon the arrival of lunch.

***

Mush and Blink hollered equally improved headlines as they hawked the afternoon edition of _The World_. Suddenly, Mush slapped Blink's shoulder. "Blink, look ovah t'ere," Mush pointed to a rooftop. "Do ya see what I see?" Blink followed Mush's finger.

"Isn't t'at on a' t'e Brooklyn guys?"

"Yeah, but what's he doin'?"

"Looks like he's followin' somebody." The two friends followed the gaze of the Brooklyn newsie. Their eyes rested upon a long-haired figure who was strolling along Broadway. "T'at's Becca!" Blink blurted. 

"Why's t'ere a Brooklyn newsie tailin' Becca? Does Jack know 'bout t'is?"

"We should go finds Spot and ask," Blink suggested. Mush seemed hesitant for a second, but he gave in. They quickly sold the last of their papers, and headed for Brooklyn.

***

A man in a long black coat watched an older newsie spurt out improved headlines from a distance. The young man was seventeen, eighteen. Instead of the usual flat hat that most newsies wore, an aging cowboy hat rested on his back. The older man watched the newsie with heightening interest. But he couldn't make a move here, there were too many places the newsie could slip off to. The man made a mental note of where the newsie was selling, and when the newsie left, which direction he left in. Gathering his things, the man departed soon after the newsie.

***

Cobs pulled himself out of the water and onto the dock. He shivered as the cool air met his wet skin. In the summer, Cobs' favorite thing to do to cool off after a day of selling was to take a dip in the river. But now autumn's nippy breath flagellated his drenched body. Soon it would be too cold to go swimming at all. Suddenly, the sound of feet echoing on the old wooden boards of the dock caused Cobs to turn around. He surveyed the newcomers. Both were dressed in newsie attire, hats and all. They were both tall boys, but that was where their similarities ended. 

The newsie on the left had a mop of curly brown hair that was flattened under his hat, and neutral brown eyes. The newsie next to him had only one eye exposed, the other was covered under a leather patch. The exposed eye was clear blue, and it warily watched the objects around him. Bits of sandy blonde hair poked their way out of his hat. Cobs vaguely remembered the one with the eye patch, he had seen him at the strike rally a few months ago. His name was something Blink, and he was one of Jack Kelly's newsies, from Manhattan. Manhattan. Hadn't Spot been saying something about Manhattan the night before? Weren't some of them supposed to be doing something there? Cobs' wondering was cut short as the two newsies stepped up to him. "Whaddya want?" Cobs growled.

"Wese heah t'see Spot." The curly-haired one answered.

"Ya can't just come ta Brooklyn and see Spot Conlon."

"Tell him it's impoitant," Blink locked eyes, or eye, with Cobs. Cobs stared back, his face up in Blink's. The staring contest might have gone on all afternoon if Spot hadn't chosen that moment to saunter over to the three newsies. In a commanding tone, he addressed Cobs, "It's okay, Cobs. T'ese two areh my friends. I'd like ta speak wit' t'em in poivate, so why don't ya go get dried off oah somet'in?" Cobs obeyed, and Spot turned back to Blink and Mush.

"Hey Mush, Blink, whadday youse two doin' all t'e way out heah?" Spot spit-shook with both of them. "Ev'ryt'in ok in Manhattan?" Mush looked nervously at Blink. They weren't sure how to tell Spot without making him think that they didn't trust him. Fortunately, Spot guessed why they were there. "Youse two saw one a' my guys follwin' Angel 'round, didn't ya?"

"Yeah," Blink grappled with his words, "and it's not like we t'ink t'at any a' yoah guys are gonna do nuttin' t'e Becca oah anyt'in, it's just t'at we know how ovahpratective Jack's been lately and wese wasn't shoah…"

"It's fine, Blink. Jack's t'e one who asked me ta have some a' t'e guys keep an eye on his sistah. He'd ask one a' you, but he was concoined t'at t'at would be too obvious."

"Why does Jack want people ta keep an eye on Becca? Wese all know t'at she can take care a' hoiself, and didn't Jack agree ta give Becca moah freedom?"

"He did. But now coitain circumstances have arisen…" Spot glanced cautiously around, then motioned for Mush and Blink to lean in closer to him. He whispered something to them, and when he was finished, the two Manhattan newsies' eyes were wide with shock. "I know," Spot answered. "T'at's what I t'ought too, but HE's out and Jack's worried. Now, youse two bettah be gettin' back ta Manhattan, and ya ought ta tell Jack t'at Ise told ya. But remembah, ya can't breathe a woid of t'is ta anyone 'less Jack says so. Wese can't run t'e risk a' Becca findin' out." 

Blink and Mush nodded, spit-shook with Spot again, then headed back to their home.

***

The next morning, Mush and Blink went with Becca to The Café, for that was what it was called, and sold their papers there. Becca thought it was because they wanted to see the establishment, which they did, but it was also because Jack had suggested it when they told him they knew. Knew about HIM. HE was the center of most of Jack's thoughts.

When Jack met the Jacobs brothers that morning, he asked if they'd mind if he sold alone, for just that day. Jack could tell that Davey was beginning to get very concerned. He wanted to tell Davey what was wrong, he really did, he needed his advice, but Jack couldn't risk too many people knowing until he and Spot figured out what to do. The problem was, they were no further on coming up with a plan than they had been two days ago, when Jack had first seen HIM. With Becca as ardently independent as she was, she wouldn't stand to have constant accompaniment. But Jack didn't know what he'd do if HE ever saw Becca and figured out who she was. She and Jack looked to much alike for HIM not to notice. Jack was surprised that Davey and the others hadn't noticed the resemblance between him and Becca instantly. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that HE would recognize Becca, and Jack didn't want to think of what would happen after that.

Even as preoccupied as he was, Jack still sold his usual 100 papes. He headed off for Tibby's, not noticing the figure who watched him from the shadows.

***

_'Now is the perfect opportunity,'_ the man in the dark alley thought. _'He's all alone, and no one will try to buy a newspaper from him because he's sold them all. All I have to do is wait for him to pass an abandoned alley.'_ The man pulled his hat down over his eyes, and inconspicuously followed Jack. 

***

Jack hummed silently to himself. He was worrying too much. New York was a large city, a large city with plenty of newsies who would, even if they didn't know who she was, help a fifteen-year-old girl in need. And it wasn't like Becca was helpless. Suddenly, a hand shot out, grabbed Jack's arm, and pulled him into an alley. Jack jerked his arm free, and looked at the man with annoyance, which quickly led way to loathing, and fear. "You."

***

Becca walked out of The Café and rounded on Mush and Blink. "What are you still doing here?" 

"What does it look like, wese sellin' papes." Blink answered.

"Yeah, I can see that, but since when do two seasoned newsies both sell at the same spot all morning?"

"If t'e sellin's good, why not?" replied Mush.

"Because all three of us know that you'd bee selling more if you spread out." Mush cast a defeated look at Blink, then answered Becca.

"Alright, ya got us. Wese wants ta stick around so's we can hear ya play. Now it t'at such a crime?"

"Aw, Mush, that'd be really sweet, if that was the real reason you guys are hanging around. But the real reason you're here is because," Becca leaned against her guitar case and drained her voice of all emotion. "Snyder's out. Jack's worried." 

Mush and Blink looked at each other in surprise, '_How?'_

Becca responded to what she was assuming they'd ask. "A couple days ago, Jack gazed out into the street, and turned completely pale. I asked him what was wrong, and he said that he saw someone who looked like Snyder, but that it wasn't him. Only it was, wasn't it? And do Jack and Spot think I'm stupid? Don't they think that I notice the Brooklyn guys Spot has watching my back? But the real question is, am I mad?" Becca shrugged, "Not really. If Snyder wasn't out, Jack and Spot wouldn't be doing this. And if I confront Jack, we'll only end up fighting. It's better just to leave it alone. Spot'll call his boys back once he and Jack come up with a plan."

Blink worked his jaw soundlessly. How was he supposed to answer that? "You guys don't have to say anything. Let Jack go right ahead thinking that I don't know, it'll make him feel better." Becca put a grin on her face. "So let's just forget it. C'mon, let's go to lunch. You can sell the rest of your papes on the way." Mush glanced to Blink, who flashed him a grim smile. Becca hefted her guitar, and the three headed for Tibby's. 

***

The man placed a hand on Jack's shoulder. "Francis." Jack flung the man's hand off. 

"Don't touch me!" he snapped vehemently.

"Francis, if you'll jus' listen ta me, even if it's foah only one minute, one second, please," the man begged. Jack stared stonily at the man, then folded his arms across his chest. 

"Ya gots one minute," he said, voice dripping with hate.

"Look, son,"

"Couldya not cawl me t'at?" Jack ordered.

"Alright. Look, Francis," Rhys (author's note: pronounced rees. it's the name of an exchange student from England that my friend Kim had. I thought it sounded cool, and decided to use it) Sullivan stared with imploring eyes at his son. "I ain't heah ta make excuses foah what Ise done. I was a bad man, bad husband, bad fa'tah. But jail did somet'in ta me." Jack's father's voice grew husky. "Ise a changed man now. I gots a raspektable job, and I'm makin' a good livin'. I even rented an apartment t'e ot'ah day." Rhys chanced a glance at Jack. The newsie leader was glaring back at him. It was obvious that he didn't believe anything, or at least not the part about his father being a changed man.

"What Ise tryin' ta say is t'at I ain't who I used ta be. And I ain't heah ta try ta make ya come live wit' me, even trust me again, least not foah awhile. Alls I want is yoah foigivness." Jack waited a long while to reply. When he finally did, his voice was shaking with anger, and a hint of tears. His words came out in a deep rumbling tone. 

"You killed my mot'ah." Rhys' face briskly filled with sorrow. 

"I loved, I still love, Samantha. It killed me when I found out she died. Pneumonia, right? T'ey said she was too weak."

"Too weak because a' you!" Jack snarled. The ferocity in Jack's voice caused his father to back up a step. "All a' yoah drinkin', it made hoir worry, and stressed hoir out. She had two kids ta take care a', and no time ta rest. Not ta mention all t'e times ya beat hoir!" Rhys flinched. "And t'en when youse got carted off ta jail, wese t'ought t'at she'd get bettah t'en. But she didn't. 'Cause t'en we didn't even have t'e little bit a' money t'at ya sometimes had t'e decency ta bring home. T'at's why she didn't go ta t'e doctor, wese didn't have t'e money!" Jack felt an onslaught of tears, and he turned his back to his father and smacked the alley wall with his fists, thumbs pointed upwards.

Rhys waited a handful of moments, then spoke. "Francis--" Without looking at him, Jack cut his father off.

"You've had moah t'en one minute." He gradually began to walk out to the street. Rhys threw a hand up,

"Wait, Francis! Please!" his voice softened, "wheah's my lit'le goil?" Jack stopped dead in his tracks. Quick as a flash, he whirled around on the downcast man. 

"How DARE ya ask 'bout her!" he shouted, eyes flashing. Rhys was taken aback. He had never seen his son this angry. Then again, he had hardly ever seen his son.

"Francis, ya hafta undastand. Ise got ta see hoir, ta apologize ta hoir too. And ev'ry fat'ah needs ta see his lit'le goil bahfoah--"

"What makes you t'ink," Jack asked, trembling with rage. He took a deep breath, futilely attempting to calm himself down, "what makes you t'ink t'at I would evah tell ya anyt'ing 'bout hoir, even if I knew?"

"Ya don't know wheah Becky is?" Rhys queried, voice cracking.

"Don't you call hoir t'at!" Jack demanded. "And ya call yoahself hoir fa'tah. T'en wheah were ya? When Mom got home and collapsed from exhaustion, me'n Sean, two two-year-old boys, had ta look aft'ah foah a baby goil. And now ya go callin' yoahself hoir fa'tah." Jack shook his head. "And I might know wheah she is, might not. I wouldn't tell ya no mattah what I might know!"

Rhys slowly closed is eyes. "I undastand. T'en I hope I see hoir, somewheah." Like a striking lightening bolt, Jack was up in the older man's face.

"You stay AWAY from hoir!" Jack's eyes were blazing fire and his voice thunder. "If ya evah see hoir, anywheah, youse bettah stay away from hoir, oah no mattah wheah youse are, I'll finds out. T'en, I don't care how, I'll have ya locked away in jail so tight t'at t'ell nevah let ya out!" When Jack was finished, he backed away out of the alley, eyes locked with his father's. When he reached the street, he allowed himself to be swept away with the crowd.

***

Jack took the long way back to Tibby's. He needed time to cool off. He couldn't enter Tibby's this upset, the others would notice, then how would he explain? Jack wasn't sure exactly what had happened back there. Upon seeing his father, something inside him had snapped. All the emotions he had kept in for years had come pouring out like a volcanic explosion. Jack couldn't ever remember being that angry before. He hadn't even been scared. Maybe a little, at first, but the anger had wiped all fear away.

The return of his father, the conversation they had had, was bothering Jack even more than he'd expected. Jack had known that the meeting was inevitable, but he'd been anticipating a confrontation not…had he really seen pain, remorse, repentance in his father's eyes? Now Jack was even more confused than he'd been before. He'd have to talk things over with Spot. And maybe it was time to tell Davey what was gong in. But Davey was a bad liar, and he'd become good friends with Becca. Jack did trust Davey, but he knew that if Becca smelled anything, she'd confront Davey, who wouldn't be able to lie, well.

Jack stopped across the street from Tibby's. He could see through the window and everyone was there. He took a moment to compose himself, clearing any remaining anger from his face. Then he walked across the street to Tibby's.

***

Mush felt himself being pulled by the collar up from his seat. He glanced over to Kid Blink, who was also being tugged. A glance upwards, and he saw Jack. A twist of the neck behind him, and there Spot stood with his arms folded across his chest and eyes glittering dangerously. When Jack reached the back of the restaurant, he let Blink and Mush go. Blink fixed his jacket, "Hey Jack, calm down."

Jack looked apologetically to him, and also to Mush. "Sorry guys, but t'e less tawkin' anywheah she can heah, t'e bettah." Mush surveyed the room, eyes resting to Jack's sister. She was watching Jack, one eyebrow raised. He glanced back at her. She shrugged, said something to the others sitting around her, and they continued eating. Mush turned back to Jack.

"How?"

"Nonvoibal communication. It's a brot'ah-sistah t'ing." Jack's face grew deadly serious. "But t'at's not what's impoitant."

"It bettah be good, Jacky-boy," Spot said. "One a' my guys t'at wese got tailin' Angel ran up ta me and said t'at youse grabbed him and told him ta tell me t'at I had ta get here right away. I can't keep comin' ta Manhattan ev'ry day. T'e ot'ahs are startin' ta wondah. Ya bettah tell yoah boys somet'in afoah t'ey come up wit' somet'in else real wild."

"It is big, Spot." Jack paused, and lowered his voice. Then he related that morning's events with his father to the three standing around him. When he was finished, Mush and Blink's eyes were as wide as saucers. 

"Whadda we gonna do, Jack?"

"Ise not real shoah, Blink. But t'e one t'ing t'at wese are gonna do is let t'e Brooklyn guys go back ta Brooklyn." Jack sighed heavily. "My fat'ah ain't out ta hoit anyone, 'least not on poipose. If he should evah find hoir, t'ere's nuttin' anyone could do ta help Becca t'at she can't already do foah hoirself."

"T'e guys don't mind keepin' an eye on yoah sistah, Jack. 'Sides, she might as well be my sistah too, seein' as how I was always 'round as she was growin' up. And I don't want ta see anyt'in happen ta hoir jus' as much as you do."

"Ise still can't let ya keep t'em around heah. Ev'ry newsie gots enough ta do all day wit'out havin' ta follow 'round a 15-year-old goil. If t'at man finds Becca, alls he'll do is tawk ta hoir. I ain't exactly shoah how she'll handle t'at, but t'ere really ain't a way foah me ta pratect hoir from him tawkin' ta hoir wit'out escoitin' hoir ev'rywheah, and I can't do t'at no moah. I just hope t'at he'll lissen ta me and not look foah hoir."

"Um, Jack?"

"Yeah, Mush?"

"Why, exactly, don't we want yoah fat'ah ta find yoah sistah if he ain't gonna hoit hoir?"

Jack replied gravely, "Because she's terrified a' him. Scared ta death. T'e only mehmories she had a' him are ones a' fear. Of a raging, drunken man beatin' his wife and kids. And since she had hoir memohry gone foah so long, I don't know what seein' him again wit' only t'ose mehmories might do ta hoir." Mush nodded back solemnly.

"So whaddaya want us ta do?"

"Jus' keep an eye out. If ya see anyone t'at looks like he's watchin' oah followin' hoir, go ovah and stay wit' hoir."

"We'll do t'at, Jack." Jack smiled gratefully at Blink.

"Now we'd bettah make up a good stoiry ta tell t'ot'ahs."

"T'e guys from The Bronx is grumblin' 'bout terratoiry again. Blink and Mush saw 'em sellin' along Broadway. T'ey said t'at t'ere terratoiry is too small, so's they's gonna sell wheaevah t'ey wants from now on," suggested Spot.

"T'at sounds good," Mush appraised. The others nodded, and sauntered back to the tables where the rest of the newsies were. Jack fed them Spot's story. All of a sudden, Blink remembered something. In a low voice, he leaned in towards Jack and whispered,

"Ya know, Jack, Ise t'ink we might be able ta tell t'e ot'ah guys 'bout yoah fat'ah bein' out." With skepticism all over his face, Jack asked,

"How?"

"Ya know how when ya found about me'n Mush knowin' 'bout yoah Dad, and ya asked us ta sell by T'e Café so's we could keep an eye on Becca?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Well, she confronted us. She said t'at she knew why we was out sellin' t'ere all moinin' when she knew t'at we'd sell a lot moah if wese spread out. She said t'at she knew that Snydah's out." 

"Snydah's out?" Jack's face screamed shock and outrage.

"No, but she t'inks t'at he is. Remembah t'ot'ah day when ya foist saw yoah fat'ah, and ya told hoir t'at ya t'ought ya saw Snydah but it really wasn't him? Well, Becca t'ink's t'at Snydah really is out and t'at's why you and Spot had guys followin' hoir around--she noticed t'at too." Blink watched as the newsie leader digested this new information. He saw the light switch on in Jack's eyes--signaling that he had an idea.

"Tat's poifect! Tanight, aftah Becky goes ta sleep, Ise kin tell t'e ot'ah guys 'bout my fat'ah. So tamorrow, all a' us'll be keepin' an eye out!"

"But whadda 'bout t'e Mout', Jack?" Jack glanced over at Davey. The blue-eyed newsie was conversing about something with Spot and Becca.

"I'll try ta tell him. If wese sell taget'a tamorrow, I'll tell him t'en." Blink shook his head in understanding and sat back down. Jack took a seat next to Spot, and related to 'Brooklyn' what Blink had told him, and the plan that he had formed with this information. When Jack was finished, Spot decided that it was about time to get Becca back for teasing him about losing his touch. And in the process, he might even be able to help Davey with his dilemma.

"So, Angel," Spot vocalized, in a teasing voice. "Which one a' t'e boys heah in Manhattan d'ya like t'e most? And Jack don't count." When Spot finished, every sound that the newsies were making came to an abrupt halt. All eyes watched Becca. Jack shot Spot a warning look. Spot's eyes answered Jack--he knew what he was doing. Becca's visage remained 100% calm. She furrowed her brow, thinking. "What do you mean, exactly?"

"Ya know what I mean," Spot countered.

"Then I don't know. I've really never…looked at a guy that way." Spot chanced a glance at Davey, who seemed to be trying to decide whether that was a good or bad thing. The rest of the newsies either guffawed or murmured in surprise. 

"Oh, please, yoah fifteen, and ya want us ta believe t'at youse nevah liked a guy?" Spot stated.

"Nuns, remember?" Becca was beginning to get annoyed. "I was hardly ever around any boys remotely near my age for 9 1/2 years. Then, with the band, we were never in a city long enough for me to get to know anyone. As for the guys in the band, I don't know, they're all at least 5-10 years older than I am. I never liked any of them. I don't know how else to explain it. Maybe that's why I never understood the point of flirting." Becca's face reflected pure honesty and innocence. "Any more questions?"

"No," Spot responded casually. The rest of the newsies accepted, and believed, what Jack's sister had said. In seconds things returned to normal. Spot, on the other hand, was perplexed. He certainly hadn't been expecting that answer. So much for embarrassing, although not humiliating, Becca. (It was an almost-big-brother thing). Now Spot wondered what conclusion Davey'd come to. He was about to ask when a voice interrupted.

"So, Conlon, what was t'at all 'bout?"

"Curiosity," was Spot's simple reply. "And Jacky-boy, befoah ta go gettin' yoah feat'ahs all in a ruffle, let me explain." Spot knew that Jack wasn't angry, but he was wondering why Spot had asked his sister that sort of personal question. "I asked Becca t'at 'cuz t'at why t'e guys definitely won't go tryin' ta impress hoir oah nuttin'. T'is way t'ey'll treat hoir noimal."

"Who says t'ey weren't treatin' hoir noimal bahfoah?"

"No one. Jus' t'is way youse kin be shoah t'ey will." Jack thought about this for awhile, and decided that he'd let it drop. Finished, Jack went to go talk with Mush about what he and Blink had discussed. Spot chose this opportunity to pull Davey aside and talk to him. "So?"

"So what?"

"Did t'at help ya any? What d'ya t'ink?"

Davey paused, still not sure. "Hmm…I think that it could either be a good thing or a bad thing that she hasn't liked guys before. It puts me on equal ground with everyone else, but then if you mess up then she might judge everyone else by what I've done. It could go either way."

"So whaddya gonna do?"

"I'm not sure." Davey checked his pocket-watch, growing uncomfortable and therefore wanting to change the conversation. "If we leave now, we'll get there just in time for the afternoon edition."

"C'mon, Becky, let me tag along wit' ya so's Ise kin see t'is Café a' youah's." Les bounded up to Becca's side,

"Yeah, can we?"

"Sure, why not?" laughed Becca. Tibby's swiftly emptied, and the newsies continued their daily routine.

***

Becca's job had flexible hours. She and Mr. Neville arranged that she was to play mornings or afternoons, with no specific obligatory time. Essentially, Becca was paid for whatever hours she put in. Mr. Neville had a place for her if she showed up, but if for whatever reason she couldn't make it, he could continue business fine without her. Which was a good thing, because Becca never made it to The Café the following afternoon.

***

The next day started off normal enough. The newsies sold, Becca went to her job. Becca left The Café for Tibby's, alone. 

***

Rhys Sullivan felt his heart muscles twisting. That had to be her. How could a father not know his own daughter? Rhys remembered what his son had said: Stay Away! But why? He wasn't going to hurt her. And she was a Sullivan, his daughter, she would be strong. Rhys made up his mind.

***

Becca felt a hand on her shoulder. _'Probably some "hoity-toity", as Jack would say, scolding me about wearing pants,'_ she thought. Becca turned around and peered at the person behind her. And was paralyzed with fright. "Rebecca, sweetie," but Rhys didn't get any further. Becca found her legs and took off. Fast as a bullet she shot through the streets, amazingly swift for someone carrying a guitar. Blinded by terror, Becca spend on and on, not noticing the carriage she was about to collide with until it was almost too late. The driver yanked on the reins just in time and the horses reared up, pawing the air with their hooves and neighing in alarm.

Becca stood frozen for a second, then resumed her panic-induced running. Soon, however, she tired herself out (that guitar was heavy and hard to run with) and collapsed in the first empty space she could find--a side alley.

***

Rhys Sullivan watched his daughter run off. Part of him wanted to go after her, but he guessed that now wasn't a good time. Worry etched over his face--he hoped she would be alright. Sighing, Rhys walked away.

***

Davey hurried along the streets. He had a bad feeling--something…not right had happened. He wanted to catch up with Jack and Les as soon as possible. When Jack and Les had finished selling, Davey had still had a few papers left. Les was extremely hungry, so Davey told Jack to go ahead and take Les to Tibby's, he'd catch up in a few. Suddenly a blur racing through the streets caught Davey's eye. It was a light brown, blue, and black blur. Wait a second…that brown was Becca's hair color, the blue her shirt, and the black her guitar case!

Davey watched in horror as she was nearly hit by a carriage. The curly-haired newsie saw Becca snap back into action and take off once again. Reacting quickly, Davey pushed his way through the street and ran after her.

***

Becca stared for what she thought was an eternity at the face that was the epitome of all her nightmares. She then realized that his hand, the hand that had not-so-gently struck her so many times, was resting on her shoulder. Instinctive self-preservation and fear took control of her body and Becca ran. She was six again, fleeing from that house of pain and terror, dashing from those who would take her away from the remaining person she trusted. Then it happened again--she was smacked by one of the flailing hooves.

But wait--she wasn't hit as she had been before. Instead, time stopped as the dangerous leaden feet of the horses kicked about. Becca regained her senses and resumed her flight. Yet she couldn't keep it up for long, she was so tired. All the memories rushing back; her heart raced, head pounded, arms and hands ached. Becca found an empty space and allowed her screaming body to drop.

***

Davey's frantic eyes scanned the bustling avenue for Jack's sister. Just when he managed to locate her, he saw her fall. Davey picked up his speed and rushed over to where she'd fallen. When he reached her, he saw that she was still conscious. She was hunched up with her back against the wall, knees pulled up to her chest. Her guitar case lay on the ground beside her. Davey knelt beside Becca, who was shaking uncontrollably, and her face was ghostly pale. She was looking out into space, eyes focused on some far-away spot.

"Hey, Becca, you alright?" Davey questioned, doing his best to sound calm, although you could sense the deep concern in his voice. The girl's only response was to whimper slightly. "Becca, Angel,…Becky?" Jack's sister's shaking increased, if that was possible. Davey paused. So far she wasn't responding to anything. He knew that no one was allowed to call her this, maybe Jack sometimes, but given the circumstances, if it snapped her out of whatever she was in, it was worth it. "Rebecca?" he ventured. 

"No, Papa, don't!" shrieked Becca shrilly. 

"Hey, oh, it's okay," Davey lightly grabbed Becca's shoulders, desperate to try anything to calm her down. When Becca first felt the contact with Davey's hands, she started to pull away. Realizing that these hands weren't going to hurt her, she stiffened. Then, the gentle touch brought her (partially) back to her senses. Becca latched onto Davey. She buried her head into his shoulder and began sobbing. 

Davey just held her, slowly rocking back and forth, arms wrapped around her back and cheek resting on her head. In any other situation, he would have been ecstatic and giddy and nervous all at the same time to be in such a position with Becca. But this was different. Becca had just suffered severe emotional trauma and Davey was worried sick. Just being there to hold her, establish a form of human contact that did not involve abuse, that's what he needed to do for her. This wasn't about having a crush on anyone. This was about helping someone begin a much-needed healing process. "It's okay," he soothed, "just let it all out. It's all going to be okay, I won't let anything hurt you." After a semi-short period of time, Becca's crying ceased. Davey cautiously inched backwards from her enough to look into her tearstained face. "You better enough to go to Tibby's? I'll bet the guys, especially Jack, are worried sick." Becca could only manage a small nod, but that was adequate.

"Alright. Let me just get up and get your guitar okay? I'll carry it, and we'll head to the restaurant together." Davey spoke in the same low, comforting tone that one would use with a distraught young child separated from their parents, or some such situation. _'But that's sort-of what she is, isn't she? These memories that she's haunted by…she had to have seen her father.'_ Jack had informed him that morning of the presence and intentions of Rhys Sullivan. Davey hadn't been too keen on leaving Becca in the dark about the whole thing, but he hadn't known long enough to do anything about it. Besides, it was too late now to do anything anyway. _'At least he's not out to hurt her.'_

David stood up, Becca's guitar in one hand. With the other, he reached down and helped Becca up, who was still shaky. As they headed out toward the busy road, Davey noticed the cornered animal's look Becca had in her eyes as she viewed the street. Understanding why, Davey said, "it's okay, I won't let anything happen to you." Becca gazed at him for a moment, then grabbed onto his free arm tightly. "You ready?" Davey inquired. Becca nodded, and they headed out into the street.

***

Jack paced back and forth by the door at Tibby's. "Wheah are t'ey? I kin see hoir bein' late foah whatevah reason. But Dave? He told us t'at he'd catch up wit' us in a minute oah two, and it's been longah t'en a minute oah two. And t'e bot' a' 'em missin'? I don't likes it." The sound of the bell on the door made Jack's head snap up, only to have his shoulders droop when he saw who it was. "No sign a' 'em?"

"Dave was nowheah neah whea ya said you'n Les left him," informed Mush.

"Blink?" The sandy-haired newsie shook his head sadly.

"Mistah Neville said t'at Becca left half an houah ago." Jack looked down as he kicked at the floor with his left foot. "Ise t'ink I know what happened, but I hope Ise wrong. And t'at doesn't really explain what's keepin' Dave, unless t'at scumbag who tries ta cawl hisself my fat'ah is a real good actah and liah." Right then, Skittery noticed something. He squinted, not sure if he was seeing things correctly. Elbowing Bumlets, he pointed,

"T'at ain't what Ise t'ink it is, is it?" Jack looked up from the floor, gazed at the two newsies who had stunned looks on their faces, and turned around. Preparing to enter Tibby's was Dave, lugging a guitar with Becca clinging to his other arm. Her face was ashen. Jack flung open the door, "Becky!? You alright? Dave, where'dya fine hoir?" Jack threw his arms around his sister and held her tight. Silent tears seeped onto his shirt from where her head was buried in his chest, and he could feel her trembling violently. Solemnly, Davey rested Becca's guitar on the wall and gazed at the group of newsies. 

Many appeared shaken. Although Jack had told them that Becca might have just such a reaction if she encountered her father, it was still a shock to see the strong-willed, independent, never-scared Becca "Angel" Kelly quivering first on Dave's arm, now in her brother's arms. Dave leaned over to Jack's ear and in a whisper explained to Jack what had happened. When Jack heard about the near-collision with the carriage, his face was splayed with startle. "Is she…?"

"She's fine, she didn't get hit or anything. But from the look on her face when the carriage almost hit her, that's how she lost her memory in the first place, from some sort of carriage accident." Jack's face grew grave and even more concerned, and he hugged his sister tighter. The restaurant was silent for an extended period of time (probably setting a record at Tibby's for the longest period of time that the restaurant was silent while 10 or more newsies were present, longer even than the time after Jack's trial.) Each newsie surveyed the scene, entertaining his own thoughts. Reluctantly, Snoddy spoke up. "I t'ink wese bettah get back out t'ere now, t'ey'll be ringin' t'e circulation bell any minute." Jack looked dwon at his sister, who had calmed considerably. She gazed back up at him.

"Go ahead, Jack. I'll be fine."

"No," Jack addressed the newsies. "Youse guys go ahead. I kin affoid ta miss sellin' t'is aftahnoon. Me'n Becky got stuff ta tawk about." Getting up slowly and offering whatever signs of support they chose, be it murmurs of encouragement, supporting looks, or gentle pats on the shoulder, the newsies filed out of Tibby's. Only Davey, and consequently Les, remained with Jack and Becca. 

"You need any help, Jack, 'cause if there's anything I can do…"

"You've already done a lot, Dave, thanks. Thanks foah bein' t'ere foah hoir and bringin' hoir back."

"Yeah, Dave," Becca pulled away from her brother and embraced Davey, "thanks. I don't know how…" Becca's voice wavered and began to crack.

"Hey, it's alright. Just as long as you're okay." Becca glanced over her shoulder at Jack, then turned back to Davey. 

"I will be." Just then, the circulation bell added its voice to the world. 

"Da-ave, c'mon, we gotta go!" Les whined. The other three laughed, and Davey said his good-byes, then left. After seconds of awkward quiet, Becca broke the silence.

"Jack,"

"Becky," her older brother broke in. "I t'ink t'at maybe we should go back ta t'e Lodgin' House. Wese got t'ings ta discuss." Becca's eyes filled with curiosity and concern.

"What--"

"Wese goin' back ta t'e Lodgin' House and we'll tawk 'bout it t'ere." Jack put his arm around his sister's shoulders and led her out of the restaurant. When they reached the Lodging House, Kloppman was sitting at the desk as if he had been waiting for their arrival. Jack glanced at the kindly older man who gave a knowing nod back. When Jack had infomred the others the night before about the presence of his father and how Becca might take seeing him, Kloppman had been told about the possibility of an early return to the Lodging House upon just such a reaction from Becca.

Jack took the fifteen-year-old upstairs and let her down on the bunk below his. He lowered himself next to her. "Becca, I guess ya know t'at oah fa'tah is out and around. Ise really, really sorry. I guess I shoulda tawld ya soonah, but wese wasn't shoah what ta do, exactly how'd ya react…"

"We?"

"Jus' let me finish. I guess we t'ought, I t'ought, t'at we could pratect ya. New Yawk's a big city and we was hopin' t'at he wouldn't find ya, oah t'at one a' us would be able to get ya outta t'ere if he evah spotted ya…"

"So what you're saying is that you, and I'm going on a hunch here, and Spot, and probably everyone else, knew about our father being out and you didn't tell me?!" Becca's voice had raised as she progressed, and now she moved away from her brother, anger flashing in her eyes.

"Yeah, t'at's true, and I'm sorry, real sorry. T'e ot'ah guys, at least some a' 'em, wanted ta tell ya, but I begged 'em not ta, I wanted moah time ta figah t'ings out, I've only known foah a couple a' days. Dave didn't like t'e idea a' me not tellin' ya at all, but I didn't tell him 'bout our fa'tah till t'is moinin so's t'ere wasn't much he could do 'bout it." Becca stood up, her ire escalating. 

"And that's why you and Spot had Brooklyn newsies following me around. Gosh, I thought it was because Snyder was out…and that's why Blink and Mush were so shocked when I told them my suspicions, they knew the truth and here I was with some other crazy theory…You shoulda told me, Jack. If it had been Snyder I wouldn't have minded so much because I don't have horrible childhood memories of him. And if you think about it, there isn't much he could do to me because there isn't anything that I've done wrong except run away from orphanage people but that was ages ago and I still don't think there's a lot he can do to me for that. But our father…" during her ramble, Becca had been speaking at a higher pitch and she'd been talking fast. She'd also been pacing around the bunk, rarely making eye contact with Jack, who hadn't moved from his spot.

Now Becca turned to face him, and locked eyes with him. Her eyes were full of (mostly) hurt, but traces of anger did exist. "I had a right to know. Yes, it would have upset me, but it would have prepared me for what I'm sure is, was, the inevitable meeting between that…man and me. And that way I would have been at least a little prepared and probably wouldn't have been half as traumatized as I was out there." The girl's voice was somber. "I had a right to know. You should have told me." Jack was also visibly in pain. He'd hurt her by, essentially, lying to her. And he'd almost gotten her hurt a lot more.

"Becky, I nevah, evah, meant ta hoit ya. I was only tryin' ta keep ya from getting hoit. Truth is, I had know idea what ta do. What oah fat'ah said, t'e way he spoke, t'e way he looked at me…" Becca saw her brother's pain and confusion. She sat down next to him and stared at his face, his eyes. She placed a hand on his shoulder. 

"You did what you thought was right. I can't be mad at you, at least not for long, for that. I was, but I'm not anymore. And even then, I wasn't really mad. A little angry, but mostly hurt, with lingering fear, confusion, and frustration thrown in." Jack smiled faintly at his sister,

"So ya foahgive me t'en?"

"Yeah." Becca grinned back. Jack pulled her into a quick hug, then released her. Suddenly, Becca's forehead wrinkled. "Wait a second--you saw, spoke with, our father?!"

"Yes. Remembah a few days ago when I told ya t'at I t'ought I saw Snydah but it really wasn't him?" Becca nodded,

"Uh-huh, that's the main reason why I thought Snyder WAS out."

"Well, it was actually Mistah Rhys Sullivan," Becca winced at the name, "ta't I really saw t'at day. I panicked and said t'e foist t'ing t'at came ta my mind. When we got ta Tibby's, Spot happened ta be t'ere, and t'at's why we came up wit' t'e idea a' havin' t'e Brooklyn guys follow ya around. I didn't want ta tell anyone from Manhattan 'cause I didn't want ta risk youse findin' out.

"T'en 'bout a day latah Mush and Blink spotted on a' t'e Brooklyn boys tailin' ya. T'ey went straight ta Spot and he told 'em t'e whole t'ing. T'ey t'en told me t'at night and t'at's when Ise asked t'em ta go wit' ya ta yoah job t'e next day. When you confronted Blink and Mush 'bout the guys followin' ya, wit' yoah Snydah t'eroy, t'at same day was t'e day t'at I tawked wit' oah fa'tah, but I'll get back ta t'at in a second. T'ey came back ta Tibby's and told me 'bout what ya t'ought. I figahed t'at I could tell t'e ot'ahs 'bout oah fa'tah now because if ya evah hoid us tawkin' 'bout him, you'd t'ink t'at we was tawkin' 'bout Snydah."

"And pretty much know the rest from there. But what about our father?"

"T'e same day t'at Mush and Blink went with ya ta T'e Café, t'at's t'e day I saw him. I was sellin' by myself 'cause I wanted ta try out t'is new spot, see's if it was any good. I told Les n' Dave t'at if it as, t'en we'd sell t'ere latah. Anyway, I'd sold all my papes and was headin' ta Tibby's when t'is hand reaches out, grabs my shouldah, and pulls me inta an alley. It was oah fa'tah." Becca's eyes grew large and she leaned over to Jack to look for any signs of a soaking. 

"Jack! I didn't notice, see any, are you, did he--" Jack cut his younger sister off by placing his hands on her shoulders and turning her to face him. 

"Ise fine. He didn't lay a fingah on me."

"What? But I, he,--"

"I know. T'at's what's got me all confused. He said all he wanted ta do was ta tawk ta me. He said t'at jail changed him and now he's got a job and an apartment and t'e makins of a raspecktable life. He said t'at all he wanted was my foahgiveness." Jack stared at Becca, who's eyes were softening.

"Did he ask about…"

"Yeah he did. He said he wanted ta apologize ta you too. He started ta say somet'in 'bout a fat'ah needin' ta see his daughtah."

"And what did you…?"

"I told him t'at he'd bettah stay away from ya if he knew what was good foah him. I told him t'at even if I knew anyt'in 'bout ya, I wouldn't tell him a t'ing. I knew by t'en, jus' from t'e look in his eyes, t'at he wasn't out ta intentionally hoit eit'ah a' us oah nuttin'. It was jus' t'at I knew t'at seein' him would probably make ya react t'e way ya did. But since he wasn't out ta get ya…t'at's why I pulled one a' Spot's guy's aside and told him ta have Spot meet me at Tibby's. I met wit' Blink, Mush, and Spot in t'e back--"

"Yeah, I remember that."

"And told t'em 'bout my 'run-in' wit' oah fa'tah. I told Spot t'at he may as well tell his guys ta stop followin' ya 'round 'cause t'ere was no point now, a newsie has ta do enough each day and since yoah life wasn't in dangah…it wasn't an easy decision but I had ta."

"I understand."

"So's t'at's pretty much it. Aft'ah I told oah fa'tah ta stay away from ya I left and went ta Tibby's." For awhile, the two sat in silence, Jack waiting for his sister to absorb and process everything that she had been told.

"Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"What did he look like?"

"T'e same, jus' oldah, kinda woin. But t'ere was somet'in about him, like foah once in his life he felt like he was doin' somet'in right."

"No, I mean, that's helpful, but when you looked into his eyes, what did you see?"

"Remoahse. A thoist foah foahgiveneess. Pain, sorrow, all soits a t'ings. But not t'e intention ta hoit anybody." Becca sat for a few moments, thinking.

"Jack, I, we, need to find him and talk to him."

"What?! Becky, he might as well have took out a gun and shot oah mot'ah because from t'e way he treated us you know he killed hoir." Jack's voice trembled with fury. Becca looked sadly at him. 

"Hey may have, Jack, put us into a situation that didn't help Mama very much when she got sick. But you said yourself that he feels extremely sorry for it, and that he isn't out to hurt anybody. I think that it's only right if we heard him out." Jack set his jaw stubbornly.

"Ise have hoid him out."

"Yeah, but how open were you to what he was saying? Right from the beginning you probably decided that you weren't gonna consider doing anything he said. Besides, I haven't heard him out yet."

"Yeah? And how d'ya know t'at yoah not gonna react ta seein' him t'e same way ya did eoiliah?"

"I don't think I will, but you're right. I don't really know how seeing him, even after all that I've just learned about him, is going to affect me. Which is why it might be a good idea if you're there. Anyway, I'm going with or without you and I just thought that maybe you would feel a little better if you're there to keep an eye on me." Becca stared at Jack, who was feeling defeated. Logic. He hated it. You could practically never fight against logic. 

"Oh, alright, fine. But wese waitin' till tamorra befoah we go start lookin' foah him"

"Fine. We can look while you sell."

"But whatta 'bout yoah job?"

"We'll swing by and tell Mr. Neville 'bout it. He'll understand. He has a friend who was in a similar situation."

"How--"

"Before he hired me he wanted to ask a few questions, and since I'm only fifteen, of course he asked about my, our, parents."

"Oh. Okay."

"So we're settled then?"

"Uh-huh."

"So whaddaya wanna do now?"

"I don't know. Wese still gots a lit'le while bafoah t'ot'ahs get back."

"Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we go back to Tibby's? I never got lunch."

"Shoah."

"I'll race ya." Becca hopped off the bunk and tore down the stairs, Jack at her heels.

***

Snipeshooter trudged into the Lodging House. He placed his rent on the desk and signed the book. He wearily plodded up the stairs and surveyed the bunkroom. A circle had been formed in the middle of the room--a poker game was in full swing; the scene in the bunkroom wasn't much different than a scene from an afternoon at Tibby's as to the activities of the newsies. What puzzled Snipeshooter was the absence of two people and the presence of a different two people. The presence of Davey and Les, however, wasn't that surprising. On occasion they would return to the Lodging House with everyone else, and sometimes their mother would let them stay over.

It was the fact that neither Jack nor Becca were anywhere to be seen that had Snipeshooter confused. Hadn't Jack skipped out on selling for the rest of the day to talk with his sister at the Lodging House? Then where were they?"

"Hey Snipeshootah, you seen Jack oah Becca?" Bumlets queried, without looking up from his cards.

"No, I was jus' wondahin' myself wheah t'ey's were." 

Race shrugged. "T'ey'll be around. Do ya really t'ink it'd take t'em t'e whole day ta tawk? And if I remembah right, it didn't look like Angel gawt anyt'in ta eat t'is aftahnoon. T'ey poibably went back ta Tibby's, t'en decided ta wanah 'round t'e city foah awhile. Jack needs t'e break, he's bin worryin' a lot lately, it ain't healt'y." The others nodded in agreement. As if on cue, the Kelly siblings pounded up into the bunkroom. Becca disappeared down the hallway to her room, while Jack plopped himself down next to Davey, who was observing the game.

"Heya guys, who's winnin'?"

"Who d'ya t'ink?" Specs grumbled. He threw his cards down. "Fold." Race grinned wider as he tried to get the others to agree to raise the stakes. Jack turned to Davey,

"Ain't ya playin'?"

"Not when Race's on a winning streak." Jack smiled,

"Smawt, as usual." Dave's expression sobered. 

"How'd it go this afternoon?"

"Pretty well. She was a lit'le mad when I told her, but not foah long. She wants ta go fnd him tamorra."

"Not a bad idea, if your father means everything he says, long as you go with her." Jack looked bewilderedly at Davey.

"Do t'e two a' youse agree on ev'ryt'in', oah have ya jus' foahmed some secret alliance against me?" Davey laughed.

"We haven't, but now that you mention it…good idea, Jack." Cowboy playfully shoved Davey, who laughed harder. The "game" was infectious, as soon the room was full of laughing, roughhousing boys. Becca chose that moment to walk back into the room, carrying her un-cased guitar, a pencil, and paper. She surveyed the scene with eyebrows raised, then rolled her eyes.

"Boys." Jack stopped long enough to glimpse at his sister.

"What?" Becca hid a laugh, then sighed,

"Never mind." Jack looked at Davey, who shrugged. 

"Beats me. Just because I have a sister doesn't mean I understand everything about them." Becca chose a seat to the side where she was near the newsies but not in the midst of them. Jack and Dave glanced over at the girl, who was rearranging her guitar on her knee and placing her pencil and paper in front of her. The two former strike leaders relocated next to Angel.

"Whatcha doin'?"

"Writing."

"Why'dya come out here? Don't you need to concentrate or something, or so I've heard."

"It was too quiet back there. I felt all alone, heard everyone out here, I just came out." Jack and Davey shrugged and formed a conversation while Becca plucked away at her guitar. After about ten minutes she shifted her guitar and took up her paper and pencil. She scratched away at the paper, then abruptly stopped, frowning. Searching for inspiration, she listened in on Jack and Davey's conversation. They were wondering about what it would be like if Snyder really was released. Becca caught the word "Refuge." 

"Refuge, yes!" Becca grabbed her paper and pencil and scribbled furiously. All other action stopped as everyone turned in surprise to the fifteen-year-old. Practically glowing in triumph, Becca finished writing and twisted to re-position her guitar. It was then that she noticed everyone staring at her. "What?"

"You shouted 'Refuge' " Blink answered. 

"So?"

"So 'Refuge' isn't exactly a 'happy' woid 'round heah."

"I know, but that's in the context that you use it. If you put it in different context, it might come across as a better word."

"Fair enough," Jack said. "So let's heah t'is song a' yoahs." Becca became uncomfortable.

"I only just wrote it. I haven't even played the whole thing through, music and lyrics together."

"So? T'at way we'll have t'e privilege a' heahin' yoah song foah t'e very foist time evah played. We considah it an honah, don't we, boys?" The newsies agreed emphatically. Becca sighed again.

"Alright, just give me a sec." She scanned the sheet of paper, going over the lyrics. Then she started playing a slow, soft, gentle, calming song on her guitar.

__

Share this brief quiet moment with me.

Let the lights and smoke all fade away.

And there's nothing left but Jesus,

and no one left but you.

Where will you go from here?

Break

Welcome to the end of time well spent.

I hope the words I'm singin'

find you well.

But, don't miss the message.

There's no greater truth.

Take refuge in His heart.

Bridge

Take refuge in His heart.

Words by Matt Morginsky, Music by Tony Terusa, Matt Morginsky, and the rest of the OC Supertones (yey!). Performed by the OC Supertones. ©1999 We Own Your Songs. No copyright infringement intended. Okay, this song doesn't belong to me, but it's the only song by the Supertones that I could actually use b/c all it has in it is a guitar, violin(s) and vocals. Please, please, please, please, don't sue me, this is your song, and I love it, and I wanted to use it, and I've got no money so there'd be no profit in suing me! 

Silence. Then applause.

"You just wrote t'at now?" asked Jack. Becca was absorbed in her sheet of paper, and she was muttering to herself. 

"Could use a violin around the break and the bridge, that'd really make it sound better…Huh? What? Oh, yeah." Becca picked up her guitar, carried it back to her room, then returned to the main bunkroom. Jack and Dave had moved back to their original positions. She shoved her way in between them. "So Race, up for learning a new card game?" The Italian newsie raised eyes full of intrigue to hers. He pulled his cigar out of his mouth, preparing to answer when Becca reached over, seized the cigar, and tossed it, successfully, into the trash can.

"Hey!"

"I've been wanting to do that for a long time. Do you have any idea how disgusting smoking, cigar or cigarette, is?"

"T'at's why Ise haven't been able ta find any a' t'e cigahs in my stash, and t'e guys can't find t'eir cigarettes! You'se been t'rowin' t'em away. Why?"

"You know how people die in burning buildings?" Race rolled his yes.

"From t'e fiah. I t'ought t'at was obvious."

"No. They don't die from the fire, they die from the smoke. From asphyxiation."

"Asphyxiation?" Everyone turned to Dave, who answered.

"It's when you die from not having enough oxygen to breathe."

"Oh." 

Becca continued her 'speech.' "And you know that stuff that doctors use to preserve brains and stuff in jars? That's one of the ingredients in cigars and cigarettes. And since you have to blow it back out, it can't be good for you." Race and the others stared at Becca in sickened shock. Finally, Race spoke, slowly.

"Alright. Good point. Nice ta know. We'll woik on it." Becca smiled warmly.

"Good. You guys do know that I didn't do that as a joke or anything, but out of concern for your health, right?"

"Yeah, we do," Race responded. Then he laughed and things went back to normal. As Race shuffled the cards, he commented, "ya know, t'ey really ought ta tell ya all ta't stuff when t'ey sell 'em ta ya." Davey pondered that for a second. 

"Yeah, they should. Somebody should look into that." Everyone looked at each other and shrugged. 

"So Angel, eoilier ya said somet'in 'bout me bein' up foah a new game. Ise always up foah a new game."

"Now that I think about it, Race, I'm not so sure. This game doesn't involve any betting."

"No bettin'? It ain't a real card game if t'ere ain't no bettin'!"

"There's other things involved. Luck, risks, consequences that your fellow card players get to choose for you…but then if you don't think you can handle it…"

"Are ya sayin' t'at Racetrack Higgins can't handle a card game? T'at's it, goil, bring it on!"

"Alright then. I learned it from the band. The name of the game is El Presidente, and, gentlemen, this is how you play…"

***

Hours later, Kloppman came up the stairs to tell them to get to bed. Les had long since conked out and had been tucked away on the lower bunk of the bed in the corner that he and Davey occupied when they stayed over. Becca had fallen asleep almost an hour ago, leaning against the wall with her head resting on Davey's shoulder. She had started to fall asleep on Jack's, but he moved around too much for her to sleep. 

The newsies started to get ready for bed, but Davey was stuck. "Jack, Jack!" he whispered. Jack turned heavy eyes to Davey and saw his slumbering sister. He softly walked over to Davey, and gently picked up Becca. Jack carried her, now slightly awake, into her room and laid her down on her bed. 

"Night, Becky." 

"Night, Jack." Jack leaned down and kissed his sister's forehead. Then he left the room and silently closed the door behind him. 

***

A loud, plunking noise from downstairs awoke the newsies. Davey checked his watch. It was the exact time that they had to be getting up. As everyone tumbled down the stairs, they saw Becca, dressed and ready to go, doing something to the piano.

"Becky?"

"Mornin' Jack. Blink, Davey, Mush, Les, Skittery, Snoddy, Boots, Bumlets, Specs, Race, Snipeshooter, Jake, Pie Eater, Swifty, Crutchy, Snitch, Itey, morning!"

"What are you doing, Becky?"

"Tuning the piano. You probably didn't notice, but when I played it I noticed that it was really out of tune. I just never thought to tune it."

"Till now."

"Yup."

"Eoily in t'e mornin', when wese all tryin' ta sleep."

"Actually, when we're all supposed to be getting up," Davey mentioned.

"Exactly," Becca voiced. "You guys ready to go?" As an answer, everyone left the Lodging House. They went to the Distribution Center, then parted ways. Before he and Les went off, Davey wished Jack and Becca luck. 

"I hope you find him and you can work this all out." 

"Thanks, Davey."

"Yeah, Dave," Jack mumbled. It was clear that he still didn't like the idea of finding Rhys and talking with him, but Becca was as stubborn as he was and she'd find a way to talk to their father so he'd rather be with her when she did. The brother and sister mad their way to The Café, and Becca explained things to Mr. Neville, who understood completely. Becca walked outside and over to Jack, who had just sold three papes. 

"We're all set and ready to go. I've got the whole day off if I need it, but if we're done by early afternoon I can go in."

"Alright t'en. Wheah'd ya see him yestaday?"

"I'm honestly not sure. It all happened to fast. I was about halfway to Tibby's, that's all I can tell you." Jack stepped aside.

"Lead t'e way."

***

Rhys couldn't believe it. The both of them, in the same place that his daughter had been in when he saw her the day before. He looked Becca over--she appeared unhurt. Her own eyes scanned the crowd, as if she were searching for something, or someone. Rhys then gazed at his son. A sweet smile adorned the young man's face as he sold his papers. But if you studied him hard enough, you'd discover the discontent and discomfort lining the backs of his eyes. It was obvious to Rhys that his son was doing something, not selling papers, something else, that he didn't really want to do. 

Rhys looked behind his offspring and saw what he was hunting for. A little restaurant, nothing fancy, but someplace where they would be able to talk. Ryhs pushed his way through the crowd.

***

A voice from behind Becca startled her and caused her to turn around. "Rebecca, Francis."

"Father," Becca said, suddenly uncomfortable. She had rushed to this decision without thinking about what to say, how to say it. She glanced at her father and was surprised to see that he looked like he was feeling the same way. 

"Listen, Becca, d'ya mind if I cawl ya t'at?"

"No, go ahead."

"Becca. About yesterday--"

"It's okay, I was startled…I wasn't sure, didn't know how," Becca composed herself. "I'm better now." 

"So you're alright? I didn't know what happened, I wasn't sure why--" Jack stepped up to Rhys.

"Ya wanna know why she acted t'at why? I'll tell ya why she acted t'at way. " 'Cause you--" Becca gently but firmly pushed her brother back.

"Jack," she whispered, "behave."

"Jack?" Rhys asked. Becca tried to answer her father.

"See, it's kind of confusing, but once someone explains it to you it's really not that difficult to understand." Rhys held up a hand. 

"T'at's okay, ya don't have ta explain it right now. Why don't wese go in t'ere," he gestured towards the restaurant, "and t'en we can tawk."

"Okay, sounds good. Jack?" The Manhattan newsie leader muttered incoherently, shrugged grudgingly, and slothfully followed his father and sister inside. '_From the way Jack's dragging his feet,'_ Becca thought, _'you'd surmise that he has lead weights strapped to them or something. I wish he would at least try to pretend that he's somewhat interested in talking with our father.'_

Becca surveyed the restaurant. It wasn't high class, but it wasn't crawling with rats and roaches either. It reminded her of Tibby's, only without all the newsies. Rhys chose a table in the corner. Becca slid in a seat across from him, and Jack resentfully dropped into a seat next to her.

"So Francis, oah is it Jack…" Before Becca could answer the question, Jack jumped in.

"Ise ain't plannin' on seein' ya 'nuff foah it ta really mattah, but Becky heah says t'at I got ta be all coyteous ta ya, so fine. Ya wanna know why it's Jack? Well, let's see heah, Pop," Jack spat out the name with contempt, "when ya escape from t'e Refuge, it's usually a good idea ta change yoah name in case t'e Warden or t'e bulls come knockin' at yoah doah one day."

"You were in t'e Refuge?"

"Yeah, I know what yoah t'inkin', like fa'tah like son, right? But it ain't like t'at. Ya see, people gotta eat ta live. And food don't just fawl from t'e sky. Even when mama was alive we had it hawd ta make it by, since ya only came home occasionally and when ya did ya didn't help any. But aftah she died, I had to ot'ah choice t'en ta steal some food. But t'ey caught me."

Rhys was stunned and confused. "What about Becca? And wheah did she loin ta speak poipah? And why's she dressed like a boy?" Becca felt anger flare up at that last comment, but she forced it down. At her side, Jack stiffened, but she held up a hand to stop him from whatever he had in mind.

"I'm not going to let myself get mad over that last remark. That would be irrational. It is out of the ordinary for a girl to wear pants and you asked that question innocently. It wasn't like you spoke with a condescending tone. Let me explain. I hate dresses, skirts, blouses, frills, ruffles, ribbons, you get the picture. I'm comfortable in what I am wearing. Now, if I hear any more about it, then I will become angry. You may be my biological parent, but you haven't been much of a father. I understand that you are genuinely sorry and that you're trying to make amends, but let's establish this right now. You will never hold any sort of authority over me or Jack, so don't even try to start by telling me what to wear.

"As for what happened to me when Jack was taken to the Refuge--I guess I was lucky, now that I look back on it. I'm not going to go through the whole story, but by and by I ended up in Santa Fe. I speak 'proper' because I received an education of sorts, and when you leave New York at an early age you lose the accent. But I'm back now. And nothing is going to split me'n Jack apart. So now that you know where we stand, what is it you wanted to tell us?"

Rhys stared at Becca for awhile. "My daughtah is one a' t'e most independent young women ise evah met. I don't know if I deserve it. "And you, Jack, so strong, such a great leadah." Seeing Jack's confused look, he added, "we do get t'e papes in jail, ya know. T'e two a' you, ise so prawd. I jus' wanna tell ya how sorry I am. I was a horrible man. A horrible, horrible husband and fa'tah. And I ain't sayin' t'at ise a great man now, oah t'at I'm settin' up ta be yoah fa'tah. I jus' needs t'apologize ta t'e bot' a' ya, and ask ya ta foahgive me, even t'ough I'll completely undastand if ya can't. I jus' have to ask, I won't feel right if I don't."

All this time, Becca's eyes had been getting more and more filled with tears. Now with watery eyes and a red nose, she chanced a glance at Jack. His expression had softened considerably and Becca saw the struggle inside him. Jack was being pulled in two completely different directions--he didn't know whether or not to forgive this man sitting before him. Becca, however, knew exactly what she had to, and wanted to, do. She ineptly stuck a quivering hand out toward her father. "I understand. And I forgive you." Both of the Sullivan men sat stunned. Slowly, just as cautiously, Rhys grasped Becca's outstretched hand."

"T'ank you…daughtah."

"You're welcome…father." Gradually, Rhys stood up. 

"Well, I'd bettah get goin'. Ya t'ink…t'ink t'at maybe we could see each ot'ah again?"

"Yeah…I'd like that. You know where the statue of Horace Greely is?"

"Yes."

"How 'bout there? Right at noon on Friday. Jack and I can take you to meet some of our friends, or we could just do something else, if you want."

"I'd love ta meet yoah friends, if Jack don't mind." To Becca's surprise, Jack spoke. To her greater surprise, he sounded sincere.

"If ya want, I wouldn't mind t'at much. I can tell Becky'd really want ya ta meet everyone, and I know how much t'is means ta hoir." Rhys smiled, but he was hurt that Jack only agreed to make Becca happy, that he himself didn't care if he ever saw him again. 

"I'd bettah get goin'," Rhys stated. "And I'll bet t'at ya gotta be out t'ere sellin' papes." He paid the bill and left. 

***

"Tell me again why ya were so quck ta foahgive him?" Jack asked. It was lunchtime, and they were, where else, at Tibby's. Everyone was watching the conversation with growing interest while munching away. Jack and Becca weren't hungry as they had already eaten. Consequently, Jack had brought up his sister's almost immediate forgiveness of the man from whom she had run from in a panicked terror just the day before. And he was having trouble grasping Becca's reasoning.

"Because he truly meant what he was saying. You can't hold a grudge forever, Jack."

"Hold a grudge? I don't t'ink not bein' comfortable wit' t'at man his holdin' a grudge."

"Yet you gave him permission to come here on Friday."

"Only 'cause I wouldn't have hoid t'e end a' it if Ise hadn't."

"That's the only reason? You mean to tell me that you didn't feel at least a little bit sorry for him at all at that restaurant?"

"Maybe. Well, I don't know, Ise might have, it's complicated."

"Can't you see how haunted by his past he is? How incredibly remorseful he is about it? And making amends with us is the only thing that he can do to make peace with his past. How can we deny him that? How can we condemn anyone to that sort of pain? Put yourself in his position." Becca rearranged her last statement as Jack started to protest. "Or as close to his situation as you can. What if the newsies wouldn't have forgiven you after you turned scab?" Jack's temper shortened as his sister brought up the sensitive issue.

"I didn't kill nobody!"

"Neither did he." Amazingly, Becca kept her calm throughout the entire argument. It was the nature of the fight. She was so filled with compassion for her father that she couldn't be angry. 

"Not technically. But if he didn't--"

"But if he didn't drink, if he was around, if he wasn't abusive when he was around. If he used the little money that he earned for something useful, if he had been a better man. Well, he is a better man now, and trying with every particle of his existence to be an even better man. I don't think that he can forgive himself until we forgive him." Jack still appeared dubious. 

"He wasn't a saint. And if he really had actually killed Mama, I'd be just as slow to forgive him as you. I had to see for myself, look into his eyes and search for any hint of a trace of the man he was. I found nothing. I'm not trying to force you to forgive him right here, right now. You have to decide if you can ever forgive him, and when you do, you have to decide when you're ready to. If you forgive him at any other time, it won't be genuine to you or anyone else. I understand and respect that. I will understand and respect that. I'm just asking you to understand and respect that I had to, and wanted to, forgive him. All I'm asking you to do is try."

Jack was so very torn. He knew that his father was a good man now, and deserved his forgiveness. But the memories…when he was young, without a father to look up to, Jack had taken it upon himself to protect his mother and sister from Rhys. He hadn't even been able to protect himself. But still…he couldn't hold out like this. Jack wasn't ready to forgive just now, but he wanted to be able to forgive sometime. Hopefully sometime soon.

"I will," he replied softly.

"Thank you." Becca responded. "I really want to stay, but I really should go." And she exited. Jack sighed and faced his friends. Their faces were full of nothing but support and understanding. Blink walked over to Jack and clapped him on the back.

"I'm heah, wese all heah, foah ya."

"I know." Jack sat down. "Enough a' t'is foah now. Everyone's all quiet, it's weahed."

"So Jack," asked Mush, trying to change the topic, "is it jus' me, oah are all a' Becca's songs seem ta have…religious…stuff in 'em?"

"Yeah," Blink continued, "and t'at song t'at she sang when we foist met hoir, t'at you two said yoah mot'ah sang, t'at one sounded religious too." Jack was much more uncomfortable then he let show. Practically all of the priests that he had ever come in contact with looked down on him and other newsies as slack-off, good-for-nothing, amount-to-nothing street trash, street rats. The whole religion issue was sensitive among the newsies, and rarely spoken about. But then the nuns that gave them breakfast in the morning were viewed highly. Yet it was still a touchy issue. Jack himself wasn't sure where he stood.

"T'ink about it foah a second, boys, she lived in a convent, wit' nuns, foah six yeahs. Whaddaya expect?" established Race.

"True," Mush admitted.

"T'at's poibably why she was so quick ta foahgive him. My mot'ah was like t'at, never holdin' a grudge. Only I don't t'ink Becky would stand ta be abused like me mot'ah did."

"Plus, if anyone did, he'd have a Lodgin' House and moah full a' newsies ta deal wit'." Blink commented.

"Yeah. And it's fine, anyway. It ain't like Beeca's tryin' ta foice anyt'in down oah t'roats oah nuttin'," Mush stated. There was murmuring of general agreement, then awkward silence followed. 

"Hey," Race lightly smacked Jack's arm. "C'mon, Cowboy, we'd bettah get goin'." And go the newsies did.

***

Davey was puzzled. Well, not really. He had a basic idea of why a newsie from Brooklyn had pulled him aside and told him to meet Spot on the Brooklyn Bridge at sunset. What confused him more was how Jack hadn't noticed the brief discourse between, was it Cobs?, and him. It didn't matter anyway. He'd taken Les home and told his parents that he was going to meet a newsie friend, which was true. 

Dave reached the Bridge and located Spot waiting in the middle. Davey jogged over to 'Brooklyn.' "I know you wanna talk about Becca, Spot, but what about her?"

"How's it goin', Mout'?

"Going with what?"

"Wit' hoir?"

"Well, we're good friends."

"Yeah, so I've hoid. I've also hoid t'at two days ago ya got ta hold hoir, and yestaday she fell asleep on yoah shouldah."

"Yes, but it's not like that." Davey was concerned. He knew that Spot was going to look out for Becca, and that if he suspected anything bad, things might get ugly. "Two days ago she almost had an emotional breakdown, and last night Les and I stayed over at the Lodging House like we do sometimes. Becca was sitting in between Jack and I. She started to fall asleep on Jack's shoulder, but he was wide awake and moving around too much for her to stay comfortable. She must have moved to the next closest thing, or shoulder."

"Yeah, I know all t'at."

"Then why'd you wanna meet me here?"

"Because I want ta know wheah ya t'ink ya stand wit' hoir."

"We're friends, good friends. You're not planning on…talking to me about her…warning me, are you?"

"Nah," Spot shrugged. "I t'ought about it. Seriously t'ought about it. But Becca's got anough a' t'at wit' Jack and t'e ot'ah Manhattan guys, she coitenly don't need it from me. If ya really wanna know, I'm glad."

"Glad?"

"Glad t'at a guy such as yoahself is int'rested in hoir, and t'at yoah good friends wit' hoir. It could be a rotten scab like one a' t'e Delancey's t'at she'd go foah, and t'at'd definitely cause poiblems."

"Thanks…but she's not going for anyone." Spot smiled inwardly.

"Not now." Once more, confusion blossomed in Davey's mind, but he knew he wouldn't be able to get Spot to explain any more. 

"So let me get this straight, you wouldn't mind if anything should…happen?"

"No. Like I said, I'd be glad t'at it was you and not someone a lot woise. 'Cause t'ere's plenty a' guys in t'is city who are. If t'e two a' you evah fight, I will try ta stay outta it, 'cause people fight. But if I evah, evah," Spot's tone turned dangerous and his eyes flashed warningly, "find out t'at ya did some'ting t'at ya knew would hoit hoir, I jus' might lose my self-restraint."

"I understand perfectly, Spot. But I don't think you'll have to worry about that anytime soon."

"Why not?"

Davey turned and rested partially over the Bridge. He watched the red-orange sun slowly sink below the crimson horizon. "Because she doesn't have that kind of interest in me, or any other guy for that matter. And I'm not going to push anything. She'd kill me if she heard me say this, but she's still pretty young, only fifteen. We're all young, still, for that matter. There's no reason to rush into anything. I'm content to wait until she's ready to start something with someone. And then, we'll see how things go. I'm not going to try to force anything between us, ever. That's just not right. If she goes for another guy, she goes for another guy. I hold no claim over her except as her friend. So unless the guy she chooses is a creep, I'm not going to try to change her mind."

Spot was awed, but of course he didn't let it show. Davey was perfectly content to wait for something that might not even happen. That's a sign of someone developing an authentic care for someone else, although probably unbeknownst to him. Spot shifted and leaned over the Bridge in the same position as Davey. "Well, Mout', ya got Spot Conlon on yoah side." Davey grinned back at Spot, and they spit-shook. 

"Should we tell Jack?"

"Tell him what? T'ere ain't nuttin' ta tell him t'at he shouldn't be able ta figah out foah hisself."

"Things might get…strained between us if he finds out, or even more so if anything should happen. But then they might not."

"Yeah, t'ere's no tellin' how Jacky-boy's gonna take it. But if he takes it bad, I'll tawk ta him. I changed her diapahs too, if he remebahs. She ain't a lit'le sistah ta him and only him."

"But there's still something special between those too. A sort of strong brother-sister bond that most siblings don't form until they're adults, if even then."

"It's some kind a' bond t'at can't be broken." Davey echoed Spot in agreement.

"Yeah…some kind of bond that cannot be broken."

****

The End

__

Well, that's the end of the SOME KIND OF BOND THAT CANNOT BE BROKEN trilogy. I want to thank everyone who has reviewed my stories. Thank you soooooooo much! Your reviews have meant a whole lot to me. In case I did not or was not able to email you thanking you for reviewing, I'm thanking you here. I don't know if I'll continue and make this a series. I have a few ideas that I might get around to after I'm done writing the Young Hercules fan fiction that I'm working on, but I'm not going to bother if no one wants me to continue, so please review this story, tell me what you think, and tell me if I should continue.


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